The Strange-st Sorceress
by The Lupine Sojourner
Summary: As the little sister to famous Dr. Strange, Ash is always being outdone, overprotected and overshadowed, but still loved. When a series of unfortunate events lead the Strange siblings to a mystic monastery, Ashleigh Strange discovers a natural ability within herself and a chance to outshine her brother; Sorcery, or the Mystic Arts. Couples are Sam Wilson/Ash and Stephen/Christine.
1. Prologue: When Ashleigh Met Sam

**OH, BOY. HERE WE GO AGAIN, EH? YET ANOTHER ORIGINAL CHARACTER, BUT THIS SIMPLY WOULD NOT LET ME GO, SO I SUCCUMBED AND WENT WITH THE FLOW. HOPE YOU LIKE MY NEWEST OC! I KNOW I LABELLED THIS A CROSS-OVER BETWEEN AVENGERS AND DR. STRANGE. I DIDN'T KNOW HOW ELSE TO MAKE SURE I WOULDN'T BE REPORTED FOR COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT OR WHATEVER, SO...YEAH. ENJOY!  
**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

It had been a normal day, but it all went wrong when I was handed my bill for lunch at a cafe.

The explosion knocked me down and the table ensured I would stay where I was, made of solid metal. Then, an alien being approached, blue and armored and hostile. I was thankful it kicked me out from under the table, but not so much when I was held up by my throat, a huge alien gun-thing pressing into my abdomen. I gagged and choked and tried to get this thing's hands off me, to no avail. Then, something thudded into the alien's back, exploding a second later. I was knocked out of the hold, crashing into the window of the restaurant and screaming as several shards gashed and tore into my back, most sticking out as I shakily pulled myself up and looked up to see a man on the roof opposite me, firing arrow after arrow into the advancing alien ranks. He gestures for me to move and I hold my thumb up, wondering if he had even seen before turning and making sure that everyone cowering in the restaurant was out and away from the danger.

Unfortunately, the aliens found us quickly and they began firing helter-skelter. Several civilians fell, wounded or killed before I whacked one upside the head with a board blasted from the wall. It turned and I realized too late what an awful mistake I had made. I pale, the board slipping from my fingers, but then I hear a gunshot and there's an African American man with a well-maintained goatee and short hair is holding a pistol, already firing at the only other alien before turning to me.

"Thanks." I tell him genuinely, shaking myself out of my stupor.

"No sweat. Try not to freeze up next time and we'll call it even." I grin, already moving with the man toward the head of the alley we hid in.

"Deal. I'm Ashleigh, by the way."

"Sam Wilson. Pleasure to-" He gets a look at my back and freezes, cursing under his breath. "Ashleigh, you have-"

"Glass in my back, I know! It actually doesn't hurt that bad." I mutter, slightly embarrassed. I had kinda forgotten about it, really. "Now-look out!" Too late, we're blasted backwards by a grenade-like thing tossed by a small group of aliens. Landing on my side by pure luck, I somehow get up and face the alley, only for a huge green guy-the Hulk, I realize blearily-destroys our offenders before roaring and charging into another group. Sam and I look at each other and simultaneously shrug.

"New York these days, I tell yah..." He muses with a straight face. I chuckle.

"Let's see if we can get these shards out. They're starting to really hurt." Sam tries to slip my arm over his shoulder, but I move away. "Thanks, but I got it. There's a hospital just up the street. Come on." Sam gapes at me, bewildered.

"How did you-"

"My brother works there. Let's go."

=#=#=#=#=

Being sister to someone like Stephen Strange has both its pros and its cons. One pro being that there's no wait because Stephen knows that if I come to his hospital, its serious. Not that I have anything against hospitals. Its just that I have next to no money, having just started my career as a Librarian. Thus, visits to the hospitals are few and far between, Steve diagnosing and treating me at home for free, cus usually my problems were not severe enough for Stephen to send me to the hospital.

One con being that he's prone to calling me when things get crazy and/or (heaven forbid) he catches wind of mugging near my apartment.

And with the alien invasion happening, I am honestly shocked he didn't call me sooner.

"Hey-" I didn't even get to finish greeting him.

 _"Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!"_ I have to chuckle.

"Uh...not really." I glare at Sam when he gives me a look.

 _"I know that tone, Ashleigh. What's wrong?"_ Steve asks sincerely. I roll my eyes.

"Stephen."

" _Ashleigh_." He insists. I groan.

"Fine. I'm coming." I grumble and end the call before he can insist on knowing what's wrong. For some reason, I'd rather not discuss it over the phone.

* * *

"Hey, bro." I greet in the waiting room, Sam for some reason still sitting beside me. It's not like it had been a long wait, but still. Steve looks quizzically at me, arriving practically right as we did.

"Ashleigh. What is it?" I turn, revealing my back, and hear my brother's gasp. He then pulls me up and toward the nearest empty room. I roll my eyes. He always was overprotective.

Which is partly why I am still single, or so I tell myself. Stephen gently peels my shirt up, and I hold it there as my brother begins to pull the glass out slowly and carefully, making sure that there is nothing left behind. Once that's done, it feels like hours have passed but can't have been more than five minutes, he takes me to the bathroom and instructs me to get my back cleaned before he can stitch up and dress my wounds as he leaves, a hospital gown already on the counter. I hesitantly get undressed and take a shower, keeping the water as hot as I can take whilst trying not to cry from the pain as the water hits my back, cleaning it and making sure it won't be infected. Coming out, I spot Stephen out in the waiting room, talking to Sam. I groan. He's probably giving the 'protective big brother' speech by now.

Honestly, I cannot talk to _any_ guy at _all_ without Stephen's mother hen instincts kicking into overdrive. I cough to get his attention from the doorway and he comes over.

"He seems nice." Stephen notes crisply. I roll my eyes.

"I literally _just_ met him during the sci-fi movie going on out there. _Quit it_!" He merely huffs and draws bandages from a container.

"Regardless, you need to be careful." I groan.

"I am _not_ interested in him! Seriously!" I growl. Stephen lightly smacks my shoulder.

"I meant about your back. These gashes are just barely outside the stitch requirement. They'll open easily. So no gallivanting about." I hide my face in my hands.

"No one uses that phrase anymore...but thanks for patching me up." He smiles and side-hugs me.

"Anything for you. You know that." I smile.

"I know." I say as I gently pull my shirt back over my torso with help from Stephen. He advises against it until I said I was not going around in a hospital gown til I get home. That changed his mind.

=#=#=#=#=

That night, I hardly slept, too restless, so I decided to listen to music and draw. Drawing was fairly relaxing, although I paled in comparison to Stephen.

In yet _another_ area. He had gotten through college first, landed a job first...a great, well-paying job. First. Always, he needed to be first, and if he wasn't...he pressed himself harder until he was. I'd had one victory; learning to read first. Even at five and a half years old, Stephen had strove to catch up. My small victory hadn't lasted a week, so I hardly counted it anymore. Then there was the issue with my father and his views on my career choice. I sighed and looked down.

I'd drawn both Stephen in his doctor's outfit, smiling at me warmly in a rare display of utter affection, and Sam with his own amazing smile, but he was holding his pistol. Frowning, I erased the arms and redrew them to appear open and welcoming, hoping for a hug. That seemed to fit Sam better.

This was something I could do easily. I have always been able to just...tell what people are feeling, even if they appear fine. No matter what, I can tell what people are feeling. Call it intuition, call it whatever, it's just how I was made. It's who I am. Sighing again, I stopped the music and got myself a cup of chamomile tea. It helped calm my nerves and thus I was able to get a bit of sleep.

=#=#=#=#=

"Why didn't you tell me your brother was _the_ Stephen Strange?!" Sam asked, mock-offended as we enjoyed lunch. It was the same one we'd been in when the alien invasion happened. By pure coincidence, we arrived at this restaurant together and had started chatting. "He operated on a buddy of mine a little while back!" I took a sip of my Sprite before answering. This was always the hardest part for people to understand.

"...Well, living under someone like Stephen's shadow...it's refreshing to step out of it every now and again. I just knew I needed to get those blasted glass bits out, so..." I shrugged. Sam nodded with the good grace to look sheepish and...sympathetic. Huh. Interesting.

"I suppose. I guess I didn't think of it like that..." I blink. No one's ever apologized for assuming having a famous brother is _all_ fun and games. It was...nice. I found myself fighting off a blush. _It's just his personality. No need to go crazy over it. Or blush. Get a grip, girl..._

"That's okay." I reply, with another shrug and bite of grilled chicken sandwich. We eat in a fairly comfortable silence for a little while before it's broken.

"...Can I get your number so we don't continue this restaurant roulette we've got going on?" Sam asks abruptly. I stiffen slightly. It hadn't been two days since I met Sam, and already I was giving him my number? I can hear the lecture now...

 _How can you be sure he won't hurt you? How do you know he's not after that **one** thing? Do you **really** know him at all? I don't want to see you hurt, is all. I love you. You know that, don't you? _

Regardless, I decide to nod and give him my number using his phone and entering it into a new contact. he texted me a simple 'Hey!' and I added his number into my contacts before I could stop to think. Regardless of Steve's reaction, it was worth it. I didn't have many friends.

Sam would be one. I would make sure.


	2. The Day Her Life Went Crazy

**I LEGIT FORGOT THAT SAM WILSON LIVES IN D.C! I REALLY DID! SORRY. ANYWAY, HOPE YOU LIKED IT!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

So...

Slightly awkward story. Sam actually lives in Washington D.C, so...yeah. My bad. We stayed in touch, however, and I apologized profusely for the miscomunication, something Sam repeatedly told me not to worry about. I still felt pretty bad about it. Turns out he had just been in town for a few days and it just happened to coincide with the alien invasion nearly a month ago now. He works in Veterans Affairs and got a little distant when I asked why.

"Lotta people need help. Not enough people helping." He said eventually. I nod, knowing I'd better not press. He seemed a little haunted by something.

"Do you know anyone in the military?" I ask before I can stop myself. He sighs heavily, and I wonder if I just overstepped the clear boundaries of...whatever was happening with him and the VA/military. When he looks at me, his face has darkened slightly.

"...I did. When I was on tour." I nod slowly, the pieces finally clicking.

"...Cool." I say awkwardly, unsure of what else to say. "Afganistan, I take it?" I ask tentatively, then realize what the frick I'm saying. Stupid brain. "You don't have to-"

"Afganistan, yeah." He admits, not looking at me. I swallow.

"I am so sorry. I didn't mean to pry, I was just...sometimes I say stupid things before I think it through, an-"

"Ashleigh, it's fine. It's just a little hard sometimes...that's all."

"That's okay. It's not your fault. I was stupid for asking. I'm sorry." I reply quickly.

"No, no. I didn't mean to sound put off, if I did..."

"No, but I can tell my questions hurt you. Sorry."

"You're good, Ash." He replies softly, then clears his throat. "So, where do _you_ work?" He asks in a painfully obvious change of subject. "I take it not the hospital?" I laugh.

"Yeah, no. I'm a librarian. Something about it just...spoke to me. I like it."

"Fair enough. I suppose someone's gotta do it." He says, chuckling slightly. I shake My head.

"It's not that bad, you goof!" I reply, happy we were moving away from more sensitive topics.

"To you, probably." He replies. "Just like I enjoy my job, but all I get are blank, awkward stares when I explain where I work." I squirm slightly, clutching the phone with supreme awkward shyness. Something I desperately hoped he couldn't see over Skype.

"Sam, I am not just saying this to attempt to assuage you. I swear. I seriously do find your job awesome. I respect your decision and am in awe that you found it in you to offer the help veterans need. I just...can't, so...yeah. If you thought I was weirded out by your job, I didn't mean it like that, I swear." I explain. He sighs.

"It's great to hear that. Really. I wasn't trying to patronize or degrade you. I just...didn't know what to say. So I said something stupid...I didn't really..."

"I get it." I interject. "I do that, too. Sorry."

"Me, too." He replies, and we both know the other meant it. We'd been talking like this for a while, be it texting, phone calls, or Skype, figuring out how to talk to one another, what topics were _not_ to be talked about. So far, we've made decent progress, but I know we still have far to go yet. I liked talking to him, though. Sometimes, there were times I felt like he wanted to talk about one thing, but we ended up discussing something else. That was okay. I don't expect him to open up completely to a woman he met during an invasion and lives in a different state. Yeah, no. That ain't gonna happen, and frankly I'm not sure I'd _want_ him to. I can tell there are dark and dreary things he has seen and most likely done. If he couldn't deal with it himself, I had no right expecting him to tell me. I am just a woman he saw fit to stay in contact with after saving my stupid butt from an alien invasion. No reason to think I'd be no more than that to him, at least not now. Maybe soon, we'd be good friends and then maybe best friends, but for now, I'll settle for being...whatever we are. "Hey, I'm thinking we should _both_ be heading off to bed, so...goodnight, sleep tight, all that stuff..." He says in the midst of a yawn. I nod and repeat his farewell. I had to work tomorrow and so did he and it was nearing 11:45. Yeah. We both need sleep.

I collapse on my bed minutes later, sighing contentedly as I pulled the warm covers over me and settled down.

=#=#=#=#=

"So, you and Sam still talking, then?" Stephen asked during our lunch the next day. Every week or two, my brother and I made sure to have lunch together, since we were both busy people and didn't have a lot of other available time to spend together. Apparently, librarians like to swarm the rookie with all the menial, everyday tasks while they handled other, 'more important' things. That was alright, though, because I like the work I was doing.

"Yes, and we are still _just friends_ , Steve." I reply. He smiles.

" _Sure_ you are." I glower at him, but decide not to deny it again. That would seal my doom.

"What about you? Did Christine ask for your help again?" It was his sore point; me attempting, so he claims, to get the couple back together. They were, somehow, still good friends after their mutual breaking-off.

"Yes. A man with a bullet lodged in his..." He took a sip of water to cover his pause as he caught himself before baffling me with medical terms I would never understand. "brain. He was brain-dead and slowly poisoned by the bullet's coating. Dr. West was about to harvest his organs." I nod.

"Nice. Anything else?"

"More of the same, really." He replied, finishing off his entree. I pick up another roll, having finished my chicken parmesan a minute or so ago.

"Oh, come on, Steve. You're saving lives, fishing around in-"

"Performing complicated surgeries on, you mean." Stephen interjects. I roll my eyes. He always corrects me on these kinda things.

"Regardless, you're doing something good." He smiles.

"Yes. Just wish there were more interesting cases available." I can't help but laugh.

"You've wanted to be a neurosurgeon since you were _seven_ and now you're _bored_?!"

"There's only _so much_ excitement to be had operating on the same organ all day is all I meant." He replies crisply.

"In other words, you're bored and want to do something else." I quip, sipping at my water with a smirk.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." He replies. I wink as I tuck a five dollar bill into the bill pamphlet, standing and kissing his cheek. "Before I forget, I have a dinner and speech tonight." I purse my lips.

"No. I always fall during those things." He cocked a brow.

"You've only been to two." I smirk.

"Once was enough to dissuade me. You wouldn't shut up the second time til I agreed to go, so..." I muse sarcastically, shrugging. "Anyway, gotta get back. Love you!"

"Love you, too." He replies, smiling. I return to the library and all was average work until I closed up at 8:00, starving and ready to relax with dinner and Steven Universe (what? Its entertaining). Eggs and toast had never been so good. I went to bed a few episodes later, knowing I'd be opening tomorrow and that was an early start.

=#=#=#=#=

It was 10:45 at night when my phone rang. Needless to say, I was _not_ happy about being woken up, even if it was only an hour and a half after I'd gone to bed.

"Look, can this wait?" I grumble sleepily, yawning.

"Are you the 'ICE Sister' contact for Stephen Strange?" A young woman asked. I sat up, now not as sleepy. If someone was asking that...and it wasn't Stephen on the other line...oh, frick.

"This is she. Is Stephen alright?" The woman sighs.

"I'm afraid...afraid not..." She tells me warily.

"What's wrong?" I ask, pulling jeans up one-handed (not an easy task). I knew no matter what, I'd have to get dressed, but I prayed it wasn't-

"He was in a car crash. I don't know anything more..." She explains. "He's being brought to the hospital he works at, if you know..." I swallow thickly. It was as bad as I feared. Fricking fudging perfect.

"I know which one. Thank you." I whimper before hanging up and pulling on a bra and shirt and practically leaping over to my closet for shoes before hopping down the hallway to get the Ugg boots on and then I was grabbing the keys and starting the car in the span on what feels like a second and too long all at once. Tearing out of the driveway and toward the hospital, I began to tear up, but blinked them back to focus on driving. There was time for crying later.

 _Lord,_ please _don't take him. Please, no...no...please spare him. Please..._

 **THIS IS, MOST LIKELY, THE LAST CHAPTER I WILL BE ABLE TO POST UNTIL I CAN GET THE DVD. I AM _SSSOOOOO_ SORRY. I WOULD _LOVE_ TO KEEP WRITING THIS, BUT I CAN'T. I DON'T HAVE THE MOVIE AND SO THAT JUST THROWS A MONKEY WRENCH INTO THIS OPERATION. SO SORRY AGAIN, BUT YOU ALL CAN SUGGEST BONUS CHAPTERS TO OCCUPY YOU LOVELY PEOPLE IN THE MEANTIME, OKAY? LOVE YOU ALL AND CAN'T WAIT TO HAVE THE DVD! HONESTLY!  
**

 **MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**


	3. Just How Bad Can He Be?

**THIS CHAPTER IS JUST MY WAY OF TRYING TO SQUEEZE AS MUCH PRE-MOVIE STUFF AS I CAN WITHOUT GETTING INTO THE PLOT TOO MUCH. SO...SORRY. THIS IS PROBABLY NOT VERY GOOD, BUT...YEAH, I WANTED TO WRITE THIS TO GIVE YOU A LITTLE MORE TO READ WHILE WE ALL WAIT FOR THAT STUPID DVD. *SIGH* ANYWAY, PLEASE REVIEW, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK, ALL THAT JAZZ.**

 **GOD BLESS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

Bursting into the hospital, I catch my breath as I walk to the receptionist.

"I'm Stephen Strange's sister. H-he's been in a car crash." The woman smiled at me.

"Yes. I see." I recognized her voice as the one who had called and told me my brother was possibly severely injured and dying. She clicked a few keys on her keyboard and then frowned before turning to me with a sympathetic expression. "I...I'm so sorry. Your brother is in surgery right now. I don't know when he'll be, uh...when it'll be done." She swallows. I nod, tears brimming.

"Th-thank you. I-I'll wait...I guess." I swallow thickly and sit down in the farthest seat from the desk in the waiting room. I hang my head in my hands, allowing my emotions to overwhelm me. I end up sobbing on the floor, curled in a sitting fetal position, rocking back and forth as my tears hit the shiny white tiles.

 _What if Stephen does not survive the surgery? What if he is completely paralyzed? What if...what if he has no memories?_

The possibilities, each of them worse than the others, raged in my head for a long time before someone touched my shoulder. I start and look up. It's Christine, looking pale, haggard, and ready to drop. I suppose I look the same, though, so I can't judge her.

"He's made it through surgery, as far as I know-I just got out of the operating room-but...we are still waiting for him to wake up." She says. I nod gratefully. She didn't sugarcoat it. She knew I would hate her for it. "I can take you to the room he'll be in after surgery, since you're blood-related, but...he's out cold, has been for several hours, and will probably stay that way for a long time..." She sounds as tired as she looks as I stand. I happen to see a clock over her shoulder. 3:45am. Oh, man...had I fallen asleep? "The chairs in his room will be more comfortable than the floor, at least." She says in an attempt to lighten the mood. I nod.

"Probably. Thank you. I mean it."

She smiles. "I know." I sigh and follow her lead as we wind down a few hallways. She yawns several times throughout our journey, and I let her lean on my arm for support. I'm wide awake compared to her, most likely, as she was just coming off surgery. She uses the support sparingly, but it's gratifying to know that we trust each other this much. Finally, we arrive at a bare hospital room with only the standard set-up of a room, but without a bed and my brother to greet me and tell me 'it looks worse than it is'. However, the illusion that Stephen would have, in _any_ world, be able to speak after surgery and that coherently is shattered by the reality of his situation. Even after surgery, he would be in so much pain...it'd be a miracle he recognizes me and would try to talk to me at all, honestly. I sigh and collapse in a chair. Christine sighs, as well, yawning into the back of her hand.

"Listen, I've _got_ to go back some sleep. When you wake up, Stephen should be here, I think. I dunno..." Another yawn has me smirking, despite everything.

"I got it. Go." I tell her and she's gone. I'm asleep again before I know she's replied.

The noise of a bed being wheeled in wakes me, but no one speaks, and soon enough they're gone and I fall asleep again.

=#=#=#=#=

The nest thing I know, the sun shines in my eyes and there's an odd sensation against my thigh. I scrunch my eyes and reluctantly open them to find sunlight streaming in. I squint and blink and soon enough, my eyes are adjusted. I groan, my muscles popping and protesting. Then, I am aware of my jacket pocket vibrating. I look at the time even as I accept the call. I cringe. 10:15am. I was supposed to be at the library at 7:30am.

"Faith, hi. Yes, I know I am opening, and...I just...my brother, he..."

 _"He_ what _, Ashleigh? This is really not like you!"_

"I know, I know, Faith, but...Stephen's in the hospital." I reply. "He was in a car crash." I explain. Faith, my boss, gasps.

 _"Oh...oh, no. I...oh, Ashleigh...is he..."_

"He's not dead, but he..." I take a moment to took at him and dearly wish I hadn't. His face is a patchwork quilt of bruises and gashes and places rubbed clean of skin, with half his lips so swollen, you'd think he'd had an allergic reaction to something he ate. The grisly pattern litters the rest of his body to varying degrees. I then notice his, and they, by far, are the _worst_ part. They are suspended in padded plastic trays, with...with needles sticking into his hands to keep the fingers still, I think. Frankenstein-like stitches are prominent across his fingers and the back of his hands, which is all I can see. I gasp in horror. He's...he's... _broken_. There's no other word for it. "he'll wish he was, I'm afraid." I whimper. "Faith, I..."

"Are not coming in to work today. Stay with him. He'll need you." She breaths, and we end the call there. I sit in shock, wondering what to do now. I somehow dare to look at Stephen again. The horrific spectacle churns my stomach and I just run. I run and run and don't care where I end up. When I regain a little sense and clarity, I find that I am in the parking lot, screaming my agony to the heavens. I don't know how, but it helps me a little. I just let emotions control me for a little while, because I need to. Once that's done, I see a woman and her son, who appears to be having some horrid allergic reaction to something, writhing in his mother's arms as he struggled to breath. I instantly ran over and offered to take the child, but the woman shook her head, so I opened the door for her.

"Sorry you had to hear that." I apologize. She smiles with a sympathetic air.

"I understand. We still don't know what's triggering these attacks." She replies. I swallow.

"Hope that changes." I mumble. She sighs.

"Let's hope. Why are you here?" I gulp.

"My brother was in a car crash." Her eyes widen even as she turns and has to let me hold her child as she signs the kid in. Apparently, they're a regular presence here. "He just got out of surgery and he's not awake yet...but they're hopeful." She sighs and takes her kid back.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"And I'm sorry your kid isn't doing too well." I reply.

"Well, not much we can do but wait, really." She notes heavily. I nod and take my leave, returning to Stephen's room after getting a cup of strong coffee from a vending machine. Christine is there, waiting for him to wake up. I sigh as I sit down on his other side. Together, we wait for Stephen to wake up. Then, I pull my phone out, wondering whether I should call Sam or not. He's all the way in D.C, though. There's not a whole lot he can do but talk to me, but I just...I really want to.

"Christine, I'll be right back. I am gonna call a friend, let him know the situation." I explain, standing up. She nods, then smirks.

"This wouldn't happen to be that friend Stephen refers to as your boy-friend, would it?" I groan. Classic Stephen.

"Yes, Sam Wilson is his name, but we are _not_ dating. He lives in D.C, but Stephen doesn't get that picture. He's stubborn like that." I muse, then clear my throat. "I'm just step into the hall for a moment. Brb." Hitting 'CALL', I wait for Sam to pick up.

 _"Hello, Sam Wilson speaking."_ Comes his voice a few rings later.

"Hey, Sam. It's Ash...calling...because..." I take a breath to steady myself against a sudden wave of emotions. This shouldn't be that difficult. "well...last night, uh, Stephen was in...in a car crash, and...um...he's...he's not doing too well."

" _Holy crap, Ash. What's wrong with him?"_ He asks. I scoff.

"What _isn't_ wrong with him might be a shorter list. You should _see_ him, Sam. He's got raw patches everywhere, gashes and bruises where the raw spots aren't, and...and his _hands_...his hands are the worst. They're just...puffy and full of pins and needles and stitches and they just...don't look right and I'm really getting worried. He hasn't woken up yet. He was in surgery for, like, eleven hours and still isn't awake." I explain, probably babbling at this point, but I can't seem to stop. There's silence for a moment on the other line and his breathing is the only thing letting me know he hasn't hung up yet.

 _"...I'll be right there, Ashleigh."_ He replies. I blink.

"No, no! Sam, I wasn't trying to...you don't need to..." I stutter, feeling horrible that he thought I was manipulating him into coming.

 _"I want to, Ashleigh. I kinda know what you're going through a bit, so I know how important support can be."_ He explains.

"Sam, really, I...I appreciate it, really, but...I just don't want to you to feel like I'm pressuring you. I swear I-"

 _"Ash, calm down. I didn't feel that. I just...want to. I know you need all the help you can get, so...I'll be there in, like four hours."_ I sigh. No stopping him now, I suppose.

"...Thanks, Sam. I mean it. _Thank_ you." I tell him.

 _"No problem. See you soon."_

"See yah." I reply and we end the call. I exhale heavily as I reenter the room. "So, turns...out..." I let the rest of my words fail me as I see my brother looking back at me, tears in his eyes as he takes everything in. The phone clatters to the floor and it's all I can do not to rush forward and hug Steve in elation.

"Hello, there."


	4. One Step, Not Much, But it Said Enough

**GUYS, I FOUND A LOOPHOLE AND AM NOW ABLE TO GIVE YOU EVEN MORE OF THIS STORY (Seriously. This is the longest chapter for this story) TO KEEP YOU OCCUPIED FOR A LITTLE WHILE LONGER. HOPE YOU LIKE IT!**

 **BTW, you should totally look up _You Are in Love_ by Taylor Swift. It's awesome and suits this couple well.**

 **GOD BLESS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

Stephen's smile was one of forced cheer as I retrieved my phone and came over.

"Hey." I greeted. "I was so worried about you and...and..." I add, sniffling and hoping I wouldn't start sobbing. Steve lets out a breath.

"No need." He whispers, face contorted in a grimace as he tried (and failed) to sit up. I sigh, swallowing the lump in my throat and remembering what I was saying.

"As I was saying, Christine, I, uh, talked to Sam and he said he'll be here in four hours. I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted." I explain. Steve scoffs.

"Of _course_ you did." He rasps. I roll my eyes, but refrain from telling him not to talk so much yet.

"Yes. He didn't need to come, but he's insistent. That's it, Stephen. Nothing more, nothing less." He sighs and relaxes into the mattress and closes his eyes. I take that as a sign that he wanted to get back to resting. I swallow and turned to leave.

"Get some sleep, Stephen. I love you." I instruct. He smiles but doesn't open his eyes.

"I love you, too." With Sam coming, I had a guest to prepare for, and that meant a quick cleaning of my apartment, so I had to get going.

"I'll let you know when he wakes up again." Christine whispers. I hug her goodbye.

"Thanks for everything, Christine." I tell her genuinely. "Really. You're amazing." She smiles.

"I just hope he recovers soon." I sigh.

"Me, too."

=#=#=#=#=

Turns out, my apartment was already fairly clean, so there wasn't much work to do. Just picking up clothes strewn about the living room I hadn't bothered to pick up and then making sure all my dishes were done (they mostly were, just my plate, cup, and cutlery from last night) before relaxing on the couch with a few hour's worth of Stephen Universe to really let myself settle down after all the excitement of the past day. Just as I was starting another episode, my phone beeped with a text from Christine.

 **Stephen's awake, but still exhausted. I told him to go back to sleep, and I think he's obeying.**

 _ **Great. He needs all the rest he can get. Tell him I love him!**_

 **Will do!  
**

Another couple episodes, and there was a knock at the door. I opened it and invited Sam inside, showing him to the guest room and leaving him to get settled as I got Mac-and-Cheese going for a quick dinner.

"Hey, Sam! Does Kraft Mac-and-Cheese sound okay for dinner?"

"Yeah! I forgot to eat since I left D.C." I could understand that.

"Hey, no sweat. I haven't eaten since a few hours before I found out about Stephen's crash." I replied. Sam, apparently finished settling in, came out and automatically started putting the cheese sauce together. "Hey! I'm the cook here!" I protested playfully. He dodges my teasing smack to the shoulder, grabbing my wrist and tossing me over my shoulder. "Sam!" I cried, smacking his back.

"Here you are, Ash. You just sit there and I'll treat you to dinner." I frown as I land on the couch, arms already crossed.

"Sam, you are the guest here. I should be treating you to dinner." I reply, but he merely leaves and continues cooking. I pout, crossing my arms, but allowing him to cook, simply because he seemed to really _want_ to for some reason. he seemed happy to help, so...I decided it wasn't enough of a big deal for me to stand my ground and refuse to let Sam cook. After all, not all fights are worth it.

=#=#=#=#=

"Wait...I have to...what now?" I ask, trying my hardest to not burst out laughing.

"Stephen's hands are still too bandaged and I need to go back to work. I'm sorry. There's no one else. You have to do it." I sigh, hanging my head and letting out one little chuckle.

"Fine. Go." Christine smiled.

"Don't tease him. He finds it humiliating enough as is." Christine warns sternly before leaving. I take a second to completely compose myself before entering.

"Hey, bud." I greet, sitting down beside him. "You're looking a little better, even if it has only been one day." I add, picking the fork up. Stephen reluctantly opens his mouth. I feed him in silence as I try not to open my mouth because I don't trust what will come out.

"Sam's at your apartment, then?" He asks suddenly.

"Yes, he is. He's in the guest room, I'm in the master bedroom. Head out of the gutter." I reply flatly, so done with his assumptions that we were dating.

"I was just asking a question." Stephen replies a little testily. I sigh, setting the fork down.

"I know. Just...until I say otherwise, assume I am not interested and I'll keep you up to date. Deal?" Steve cocked a brow.

"So you _are_ interested in him?" I groan.

" _No_! I am not!"

"Sure."

"I am _not_!" Steve simply smiles and opens his mouth as I all but shove food in his mouth, highly put out by this whole thing.

=#=#=#=#=

Three weeks have pasted and not much has changed. I am still shaving and feeding my older brother, who I can tell is getting more and more humiliated and frustrated, even though I try to assure him that he can't do anything about it. At least, not until he gets the bandages off.

Sam was a huge help, though he couldn't be there all the time, with his work. In fact, I was lucky he decided to keep coming over at all. Friday evenings, he would arrive and I would invite him in and we would watch a movie and avoid talking about things. Until the morning, when I'd accidentally let it slip how awkward it is that I am suddenly this huge part of Stephen's life. He needed me for so many things, and that was something that had never happened before. Christine and I were suddenly thrust into a role we were unused to. Okay, well maybe Christine is used to this level of care, but...me? I...I'm not used to this.

Since we were little, it had always been Stephen taking care of me, whether I liked it or not, from bruises and nicks when we wrestled to offering to pay for my college when I didn't have a job yet and he was being a good big brother. So...this shift...this complete reversal of roles...I just...am so unused to it. I had to get used to it and that was hard for the first couple days-okay, maybe a week-but, I mean, can you blame me? Sam would then reach over and place his hand on mine and give me solid advice like 'Ash, there's nothing either of you can do about it. He needs you and that's that.' and other amazing tidbits of wisdom. I have grown so accustomed to his comfort and mere presence, I wondered how I'd have gotten through this without him.

About five weeks into Steve's recovery, meaning it wouldn't be long now until the bandages would be taken off, Sam and I were watching a cheesy late-night movie neither of us were really invested in when he turned to me, grabbing the remote and turning the movie down so we could talk comfortably.

"I heard you talking to someone on the phone earlier and couldn't help picking up the tension." He said in an obvious request for information. I swallow. It was this morning, and I had thought Sam was still asleep. He was more observant than I thought. "If you don't mind my asking...what's going on?" I fiddled with a strand of my hair in an attempt to relieve the unease I felt at that question.

"That was my mom. She and I have a lack of understanding about how my dad sees me." I confess after a moment. _You just need to **try** , sweetheart. Please just...talk to him. _I shook myself subtly. _Why did I just do that? I just unloaded my emotional baggage onto this amazing man with his own set of problems! Good going, Ashleigh._ Sam squeezes my shoulder comfortingly.

"What's goin' on?" I sigh, squirming a little, tucking my hair nervously as I think of how to deal with this stupid slip-up.

"My dad...he's an engineer and thinks that something like a librarian or a children's teacher is not a 'real' job. Only things like engineers or scientists are acceptable to him. Regardless, I pursued my dream of shelving books and checking books out and helping people. While I got good grades, they never pleased my dad. But I kept on my path, with help from my mom. Now, I am the black sheep, the butt of all jokes dad tells at family reunions. We don't talk much nowadays." I mumble, drawing my knees out and desperately hoping that he would be dissuaded. He drew me closer, leaning his head against mine. I didn't know if this gesture was purely friendly platonic comfort, or if it was something else, but I did know that I was confused as to what I even felt toward him anymore. I thought we were good-maybe even great-friends. And then stuff like this happens, and we get closer and I don't know how to feel about this.

"That man doesn't know what he's on about. Ashleigh, you're an amazing woman and I'm sure an even better librarian. Just don't let him get you down." I sigh. He's right, but that's easier said than done.

"I try not to, but I just...it's really hard when I can add it to the list of areas Stephen is forever better than me in." I reply heavily, tears brimming. "I mean, I love Stephen, and I love my father, but he just...I just..." The tears slid down my cheek, and Sam turned me toward him.

"Hey, hey. Let me tell you something. I was pararescue, flying so many missions, I've lost count. With my wingman, Riley. Awesome guy. Like a brother to me. And then, one unlucky night, Riley met his maker. Shot outta the sky. Nothing I could do." He said, wiping my tears away. I take a breath to calm down. He was unloading his own emotional baggage on me and I needed to be there to receive it.

"Sam...th...that's awful. I...I'm...so sorry." I whisper, automatically cupping his cheek, wiping his own tears away.

"It was near a year ago now, but it still feels like...like yesterday." I lean my forehead to rest comfortingly against his. We then just rest there for a while, TV forgotten as we bask in each other's presence. Neither of us needed to say anything. Everything needed had been said.

=#=#=#=#=

I awoke to the smell of coffee, bacon, and eggs. And some kinda cinnamon. I sit up, blearily realizing that I-Sam and I, that is-had fallen asleep on the couch and had somehow not shoved each other off during the night. I groggily made my way to the bathroom and went through my morning routine. I came out to Sam smiling at nothing while making eggs with a practiced air. I clear my throat and he whirls.

"H-hey, Ash." I clicked my tongue reprovingly.

"Twice now you've usurped my kitchen. In a row. This is getting to be a habit." Sam walked closer, smiling. I took the opportunity to slip past him, pick up the spatula, and position myself in front of the eggs, turning them over and chopping them. Sam laughed, and pulled me back by my hips, but I stood firm, gripping the edge of the counter for added support. Eventually, he wins and we end up collapsed on the floor, laughing. He grabbed the spatula and continued cooking the eggs, so I got up and got a mug of coffee, finishing just as the toaster went off with the bagels. I immediately went to butter them. "No, Sam. No you don't!" I tell him when he tries to take the butter knife from my hand. "You made the eggs, I butter the bagels. Deal?" He sighs.

"Fine. Deal." Sam acquiesces and we settle into our appointed tasks, sitting down and then I get a brilliant idea. I grab my phone and turn on Taylor Swift. She's honestly one of my favorite female artists. _You are in Love_ starts playing and I sing along softly. Sam doesn't make a comment, but just watches me while letting the eggs cool. Then, he grabs my hand and we start dancing, swaying without any kind of grace of rhythm to it, only somewhat to the music's tune.

 _"Light-hearted joke. No proof, not much. But you saw enough."_ The lyrics, for some reason, make my heart skip a beat. I'd always felt like this song was nearly _too_ romantic for my tastes, but enjoyed it nonetheless. Now, though...Sam and I simultaneously stop dancing and chuckle awkwardly.

"Nice song." Sam comments. I smile.

"Thanks. I, uh, like your dance moves." I then blanch. "No, wait, I didn't-I mean, I just...uh...I didn't mind dancing...with you..." I trail off miserably. I'd just dug myself in deeper. Sam laughs.

"I get it. Let's eat, before the eggs and bagels get cold." I nod.

"Good idea." I mumble, grabbing my portion and sitting down. "Sorry about all that. Just blabbed the first thing to come to mind again." I explain. Sam winked.

"And I just followed my gut when I danced with you." I smile, fighting off a blush.

"Heh. Yeah. Guess we're both pretty impulsive." I reply, shoving eggs and bagel into my mouth to prevent any more embarrassing comments. Sam laughs.

"Guess we are." Wait...what is he doing? Why is he leaning over..? Why am I leaning toward him..? Just as we are about to seal a kiss, my phone rings. I jump and fumble for it, groaning at the ruined moment.

"Hello, Ashleigh Strange speaking?" Somehow, I don't convey my irritation in my voice, just in the look I give Sam, who barely holds in his laughter.

 _"Hey, Ash. Christine here. Um...Stephen is being released and I am still on duty, so..."_ I nod.

"On it. Thanks, Christine."

 _"See you at the hospital, then?"_ She asks.

"See you there. Bye."

 _"Bye."_ She replies. I sigh and hang up. I reluctantly slam the rest of the food into my mouth, heading into my bedroom, leaving poor Sam in the dark until my mouth was free of food as I grabbed a jacket and shoes.

"Sam, I gotta go pick Stephen up." I explain. He appears in my doorway.

"So...time for picking up where we left off?" I blush scarlet, fumbling with the laces of my combat boots.

"Uh...I guess, yeah." I mumble, standing and facing this strange new feeling. I hadn't realized just how much our feelings had grown until that stupid song came on. Now...I guess I have Taylor to thank for opening my eyes. Sam is a brilliant man and an excellent best friend/crush/love interest or whatever he is at this point. He'd talked to me late into the night on many occasions, about any and everything. He'd helped me deal with this strange new reality of having my older brother completely dependent on me for many everyday tasks, aiding me in navigating it in ways I didn't know I needed help in, simply because he knew I needed help, even when I didn't. So I leaned in, hands against his strong, muscular chest, and sealed my new feelings with a chaste yet passionate kiss. It seemed to last an eternity and a second all at once. We broke apart reluctantly and smiled at each other. "I have to go get Stephen." I whisper.

"I'll come with you." He replied, equally as softly, leaning his forehead against mine. I laugh.

"If you want, I guess." With that, we left, holding hands and giggling at our elation at finally nailing down what we are to each other. I then stop. "Wait...he...he'll figure out we're dating and he'll _kill_ me!" Sam laughs.

"How do you know?" He asks.

"Stephen's always giving this huge 'protective big brother' speech to _every_ guy I talk to and now, I've gone behind his back-well, he'll see it that way, anyway-and am in this relationship, which I do _not_ want to end because of this, and...ugh." Sam squeezes my hand.

"If it's easier for you and Stephen, I'll hang here. Just...maybe try and break it to him on the way here?" I smile, giving him a kiss. He really is the _best_ man I know.

"Deal, Sam. Love you."

"Love you, too."


	5. Family Matters (and Arguments)

**I GIVE YOU MORE OF THE DOCTOR STRANGE FIC NO ONE ASKED FOR, BUT ARE GETTING, ANYWAY.**

 **LEMME REPLY TO THE REVIEWS THIS THING GOT BEFORE I GET INTO THE STORY.**

 **Volans15: Thanks so much! Here's more for you!**

 **Coriandra: I think I replied in a PM cus I was just so happy this thing got a review, but in case I didn't, THANK YOU! This is so sweet of you to say! I hope I portray Ashleigh's reaction to her brother's pain in a realistic, meaningful way. It IS an awful situation, and Ashleigh knows that. Good thing Sam's there to help her out, right? ;)**  
 **NOW, HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!**

 **GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

 **P.S: MINOR LANGUAGE WARNING.**

"Oh, frick!" I curse at myself as I pull into the hospital parking lot. How on Earth was I going to tell my brother that the guy I constantly denied being attracted to was now my boyfriend?!

Crud. I did not think this through!

Nevertheless, here I go.

"Hello." The receptionist greets, smiling in recognition at me. "He should still be in his room." She instructs.

"Got it. Thanks." I reply, heading back. By now, most of the staff assigned to Stephen knew me. I waved and greeted them on my way past, then watch as Stephen is clumsily putting his few belongings in a bag. "Need help?" I ask. He shakes his head stubbornly.

"I can do it." He grouches, as always. I nod, rolling my eyes.

"Okay." Soon enough, we are walking back to reception and I know I have to open the conversation about Sam somehow. He's signing whatever discharge papers he needs to sign and then we're walking out in silence.

"Are you okay?" He asks as we close our car doors. I nod.

"Yeah. Why?" I ask, feigning innocence. He frowns.

"You haven't said a word and your knuckles are white on anything you grip." I turn the key, consciously letting up on my grip.

"Okay, Sherlock." I tease with a chuckle. "There's nothing wrong." I add. After all, I now have a...boyfriend, I guess, though we haven't labelled it yet. So, yeah; nothing is wrong at all.

"Aanndd now you have- -you kissed Sam, didn't you?" He asks, frown deepening. I roll my eyes.

"Calm down, Stevie!" I grouch with a smirk, knowing he hated being called 'Stevie'. "But…" I take a breath. "you're right." I confess. There. It was done.

"Knew it." He says, smiling. I blink.

"Wait...you're not mad?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"Not at all. Sam is a reasonable, mature young man." I guffaw as we come to a red light.

"Okay, Dad." I snark. Stephen sighs.

"In all seriousness, Ashleigh, I am happy for you, even if it's weird to think of my little sister kissing and- -." I cough, cutting him off.

"Thanks." The silence stretches for a few moments.

"...How many times have you two kissed?"

"Stephen!"

=#=#=#=#=

Heading up the stairs to my apartment, I hear another voice. One I'd recognize anywhere. I pale. What was- - "Mom?" I ask, opening the door to find Sam and my Mom talking like they were fast friends.

"Oh, hello, sweetie!" She greets, grinning and hugging me. "It's so good to see you! I missed you!" I bite back a 'you know you can come anytime you want, right? Dad shouldn't hold you back from seeing your own daughter.' retort and accept her hug.

"Missed you, too, Mom." I reply instead.

"I must say, good choice of man." She teases, winking. "Nice piece of chocolate!" I flush several different shades of scarlet and groan for a solid five seconds.

"Mo-om!" I whine, thoroughly embarrassed.

"Oh, relax, sweetheart. I'm just teasing." Cheeks aflame, I flop on the couch, arms crossed. I roll my eyes, but flinch at a series of unexpected knocks to the front door.

"Honey?" Comes the voice of my father. "I got gas, beef jerky, and Dr. Pepper, as requested." He says as Mom opens the door. He takes in the scene and immediately goes to Stephen, all but throwing the groceries into Mom's arms before hugging my brother. It's then he glances over me to find Sam glancing between everyone, confused, before entering a kind of staring contest with Father. I reluctantly stand.

"Sam...this is my father." my father shakes his hand.

"What do you do for a living, son?" He asks, clearly deducing our relationship as he shakes my boyfriend's hand. I grit my teeth.

"Father, please!" I hiss.

"I work in Veterans Affairs." Sam replies, taking it in stride, looking the father of his girlfriend dead in the eye. My dad frowns.

"Don't you dare." I growl, refusing to let my father degrade the amazing work Sam was doing. Father merely sniffs.

"I suppose it's a somewhat reasonable position." I refrain (barely) from adding fuel to the fire by quipping about how that was as close to acceptance as Sam was gonna get because my dad hates me. Stephen then clears his throat.

"So, how come you are in town?" He asks Father, to steer the conversation in a less dangerous direction. Our father smiles.

"Well, Christine called us and let us know you'd be released today, so we figured it'd be a good idea to swing by and see how you're coming along." Stephen scoffs.

"My hands are useless." He grumbles. "Utterly useless." The conversation continues for a few minutes before Mom decides that, if they want a decent amount of sleep that night, they should get going.

"Lovely to see you, son." Father farewells, hugging Stephen before stepping by me to get to the door, carrying the groceries. He doesn't say a word to me as he leaves, but at least Mom acknowledges me.

"Bye, dear." She says, giving me a brief hug.

"Bye, Mom." I say, unwilling to start a conversation about how she shouldn't let Father yank her around like this. Soon as they're gone, I sit on the couch, huffing my irritation out in a breath before looking up again. This was so the wrong week for my period. "Should we get Domino's?" I ask no one in particular, snuggling up to Sam as he sits beside me.

"You know what I think?" He asks, leaning in with a 'kiss me' smirk on his face. I grin back and lean in, as well.

"What?" I ask in a soft voice I hope was at least slightly alluring.

"I think we should have Chinese." I blink as he stands, searching for my landline. I splutter for a second before launching a pillow at him that he catches. I'd expected a kiss!

"You jerk! I wanted a kiss!" I grouch, my laugh betraying my amusement. Sam merely lobs the pillow back at me so quickly and so suddenly that I fall off the couch. Thus began a pillow fight in the living room. We end up laughing in a tumble of limbs on the couch, the pillows we'd fought with now under Sam's head with his chest as my pillow.

"In all seriousness," Sam says, kissing my forehead. "I'll have whatever you want." I grin, finally getting that kiss I was denied.

"So, Domino's it is." I conclude cheekily. Sam laughs.

"Sure thing, beautiful." I blush a bit and bury my face in his shirt.

"I love you." I tell him. And I truly did.

"Good. If you didn't, it'd make my next question a tad awkward." I frown, playing along, hoping he was going to ask what I think he's going to ask.

"Oh?" I ask, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "Whatever could that question be?" He laughs and kisses me again.

"Would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?" He asks. I smirk.

"Hhmmm," I reply wryly. "I'll have to think about that." Sam quirks a brow.

"Can I argue my case while you think it over?" He asks, and through my blush, I nod.

"Sure." It's then he simply kisses me like his life depends on it, like I was the only thing in the world right then. So I responded in kind. "Keep kissing a girl like that, and she'll get the wrong idea." I tease breathlessly, our foreheads touching.

"Then I'll kiss you like that til you say yes." Sam replies, his eyes asking and mine acquiescing to another heated kiss.

"Lord have mercy." I breath when we part for air.

"I'll say." Sam retorts.

"Yes, and, in the meantime, I'm left feeling nauseous and likely to vomit." Comes Stephen's voice. I roll my eyes.

"This is how normal couples interact, Stephen!" I call back, untangling myself and looking for the landline.

"You know, you never directly answered my question." Sam remarks as I pick the phone up.

"Oh." I reply. "...No." I tease, returning his earlier tease with my own. Sam shakes his head.

"This is karma, isn't it?" I nod as I press 'talk'.

"Yup."

"Anything I can do to convince you otherwise?" Sam asks. I quirk a brow in pretend thought.

"Apologize for not giving me a kiss earlier and make up for it before they answer." I tell him. Sam goes for the kiss first, knowing to keep it short.

"I am really sorry for teasing you earlier. Can you forgive me?" I smile. He really was something else.

"Of course. And yes, of course I'll be your girlfriend." I reply, kissing his forehead just as Domino's picks up. I order a few pizzas, tell him the address, and hang up in minutes.

Then it's cuddling with Sam while Stephen sets up in the only other, tiny, bedroom in my apartment (I'd mainly used it for storage/a kind-of office for my writing). He'd spend the night there, then head home in the morning. "I love you." I blurt.

"I love you, too, Ash." Cue happy smiles all around.

=#=#=#=#=

"Absolutely not!" I scream. "You are not going for yet another surgery!"

"Ashleigh- -"

"No!" I bark. "You've already had six surgeries, Stephen! Six!"

"And my hands aren't getting any better, so we'll keep- -"

"No!" I interject. Again. "Stephen, this is getting out of hand." I continue, pinching the bridge of my nose. "These surgeries are paid for with the amount in your account, yes, but this last surgery drained it completely. We can't afford another one."

"We'll borrow from the bank." Stephen suggests. I shake my head.

"No. Then we'd have a loan and surgery to pay off. And we're already barely making ends meet with the rent and utilities and- -"  
"Why didn't you tell me?" Stephen interjects. I shrug, sighing heavily.

"There's nothing really you or I can do about it. I don't have time for a second job, and I only have the librarian position, which really doesn't make a whole lot." I reply with another sigh. I was so thankful Sam was at the store right now. Stephen bites his lip, but before he can speak, my brain decides it's a good idea to voice one inner demon that's been real active of late; how right my father is. How my job has landed me in this situation. "Well, I did this to myself. Choosing to stubbornly pursue Library Science...dad was right; it doesn't do anything." I mumble. Stephen licks his lips.

"You know, I envy you." I blink.

"What?" Stephen sighs.

"Did I ever tell you why I latched onto being a neurosurgeon?" I shake my head. He'd said it was for the money and the thrill of holding a life in your hands, but… "Partly because I genuinely wanted to, but mostly to appease father. He pressured me, particularly as a man and the eldest of his children, to choose a career likely to bring in a lot of money. So, I decided 'go big or go home', as the saying goes. But you? You held your head up and went ahead with your vision of what you wanted. And when I needed you, when I became dependent on you and Christine almost constantly, you didn't lord it over me, or gripe about it. You gave your time freely and without regret that I've seen." I'm honestly floored. Never in a million years… "And I can never tell you enough how grateful I am for that." I smile.

"Thanks, Stephen."

"So, can I get that- -"

"No!" Irritation flares in me, though I know he's mainly teasing (mainly), because I know exactly what he's about to ask.

=#=#=#=#=

"Stephen!" I scream, rounding on him. He paled, but stupidly decided to play coy and innocent.

"What?" I glare at him as if trying to set him ablaze.

"You know exactly what." I growl. Stephen smirks.

"No, I don't. Elaborate, please."

"You scheduled yourself another surgery after I explained to you that there was no way in Hell I'd be able to- -"

"I borrowed money to pay for it all in one go." I scoff.

"Great. Now I'll have to pay off a loan instead of a surgery, a loan which has interest, you stupid- -"

"This one will work!" He protests, cutting me off. I release a heated breath before I make a retort I'd later regret.

"You better hope it does." I growl instead, low enough that he could register my fury as I storm out of the room.

=#=#=#=#=

"He got another surgery!" I growl, chopping at the cooking taco meat with more force than strictly necessary. "And used a loan to pay it off! Without asking or even talking to me about it!" Beside me, Sam groans.

"Damn, Ash. I'm sorry." I sigh.

"It's not your fault." I grumble.

"No, but still. I'm sorry." I melt into his embrace from behind as I stir the meat with a bit more control now. I am so glad I decided to take Sam up on his offer to stay in DC for the weekend. I couldn't stay with Stephen right now. I was too pissed at him.

"Thanks, Sam." I whisper, hugging him while the meat simmered. He was too sweet.

"You're gonna burn the meat, you know." He teases, chuckling and kissing my temple. I smile, the negative feelings and circumstances fading in the presence of Sam's warm, comforting embrace. That was all that mattered. After a little bit, I released Sam and got dinner ready. "Oh, I almost forgot. Got you a pair of running shoes, babe." I grin.

"Aww, babe!" I coo, overdoing my reaction to tease him before deadpanning. "It's adorable you think I'm gonna start running." I finish, winking and laughing as I bring the food to the table. Sam laughs.

"I'll take it easy on yah, baby. Don't worry." I laugh as his arms encircle me from behind and his goatee tickles my temple as he kisses it.

"Comforting, but still no." I retort, still grinning. Sam clucks his tongue.

"I need a partner and I think it would be a great way to bond." I frown.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"No." Sam sighs.

"Just one run?" He pleads. "Not that far. Just a few miles, promise. You're new and I won't push you that fast." I sigh.

"You're not gonna quit, are you?"

"No." I roll my eyes.

"...One run." I acquiesce. "Now, let's eat these fricking tacos before they get cold."

=#=#=#=#=

"Why are you...why are you trying to...kill me?" I wheeze, very much regretting this decision. Whoever decided humans needed to run to exercise needs to be shot. Pronto.

First off, the sun was only just now thinking about rising, and I had yet to have coffee. Second off, my legs refused to run at even this turtle's pace another step. So I stop and bend over, hands on my sweaty, wobbly knees.

"Breathe, babe." Sam soothes, rubbing my back. I smack his hand off, huffing at him irritably.

"I hate you." I groan, forcing myself to straighten and put my arms over my head. I heard it helps from runners before Sam that tried to get me into running.

Key word being tried.

"No, you don't." Sam retort cheekily. I take a few more gulps of air before heaving a long sigh as I start walking.

"Yes, I do. You and running." I force my legs to begin speeding up and my boyfriend is beside me in an instant.

"Then why did you start up again before me?" I swat at him, missing with my weak arms.

"Because I just want this to be- -"

"On your left." Comes a new male voice and a series of rapid footfalls that seem almost unnaturally fast. Curious, I watch as the guy comes into view. He's absolutely jacked, with Casanova blonde hair cut short and shirt at least a size too small. The pants clung to his legs easily, giving me a full view of his powerful muscles. Sam and I run after him, but are hopelessly outmatched.

"Who the fricky-frack?" I ask rhetorically between labored breaths.

"No idea." Sam replies, and we try to speed up a bit. Within five minutes, however, the dude's there again.

"On your left." He says once more. I groan.

"Uh-huh. On my left. Yeah, got it!" Sam calls, getting irritated at being shown up so effortlessly. By the time we got to the pool in front of the Washington monument, he was back. We heard him before we saw him.

"Don't you dare!" I growl, wheezy voice betraying my exhaustion.

"Don't you say it, don't you say it!" Sam adds, sounding less breathy than me.

"On your left." The guy says cheekily.

"Come on!" Sam screams, and together we, in a stupid fit of rage, take off as fast as we can after him, but only get maybe ten feet before I literally collapse in a puddle of goo. Everything hurt.

"Ooowww…" I groan, standing on shaky legs and barely making it to a tree before leaning on it to slide back to the ground, Sam following me. I put my head in his lap, sweaty or not. I needed a long nap... "Who is that jack-ass?" I grumble, wishing my side stitch would go away.


End file.
